


That Damn Crimson Top

by sansalannistark



Series: We’re Living In The Same Bloody House [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Jaimsa Smut Week, Smut, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: Helping a flatmate get ready for a date with another man isn’t a great situation if you’re actually in love with her.





	That Damn Crimson Top

**Author's Note:**

> An entry for Jaimsa Smut Week 2018, for the theme of clothing. Enjoy!

“You, um, you... you have a date?”

Sansa was humming happily to herself. She seemed to happy that Jaime didn’t even have the heart to protest to what she’d just told him. Hells, she didn’t even turn around as she rummaged through the wardrobe, flicking through rails of dresses and jeans and svelte tops. “Yeah I know,” she answered eventually, plucking out a cropped crimson top that he knows will show off an unbearably torturous amount of skin. Before he can stop himself, before he can shut his fucking mouth-

“Do you really want to wear that, Sansa?”

He wanted to slap himself on seeing the grin disappear from her face. _You complete ass._

“What’s wrong with it?” Sansa’s voice was high and wavering and it only needled his guilt. She rarely sounded so self-conscious. It is his fault, his fault for not being the supportive friend she wants him to be, but he is insanely jealous at the thought that some other obnoxious twenty-something is going to see her in that top and those slim jeans that hug her arse, and have his hands all over her.

_Stop it, you fool._

“No, no it’s... it’s great, San. Honestly,” he pleads. “I just wasn’t sure about the colour.” There’s nothing wrong with the colour at all. “Truly, it’ll look great. How about these jeans instead though,” he suggested hurriedly, reaching for a pair at the end of the rail. “Black jeans will look better with crimson.”

What the fucking hell is he doing? How in seven hells did he get himself in this mess, picking out date clothes for the woman he loves and he can’t even say a word. Sansa was considering the suggestion, holding the blasted clothes up against herself in the mirror until she seemed satisfied. “I’m going to change. Thanks, Jaime,” she chirped, though there was definite uncertainty in her tone where it wasn’t before. Something else to beat himself up over.

“You’re welcome.”

When he registered his own voice, it was empty, dejected and bare.

————

Jaime resigned himself to misery the moment Sansa left. After he’d given her all the usual over-protective warnings and made sure she had enough money for a cab, she’d practically run off for her date, leaving him to stand uselessly on the porch.

It’s been going on for months now; watching her, wanting her. In the beginning they had been poor, desperate flatmates and somewhere along the way, become close friends. Jaime knows most of her friends, he’s cooked for her more than he has for any of his failed dates. He wants her, yet he has never said a thing. Sansa deserves a younger man: someone smarter and kinder than him. She deserves someone better, but it’s so bloody difficult when he craves her so.

It makes it infinitely worse when they live so close. Even the smell of her favourite lemon shampoo makes his stomach turn. He has to move out, soon, or he fears he’ll go mad with want. How much longer can he pretend the sight of her dressing up for dates with other men doesn’t make him want to throw up?

Jaime was half asleep when he heard the sound of the front door and decided he would remain sleeping, or appear as if he was. He didn’t wish to see her. Not now.

He heard Sansa stumble through the house and throw her bag down. He expected she would go straight to bed. Instead, he heard her stop, then a heaving sob and the sound of her falling heavily back against the wall. She continued to cry steadily and Jaime felt his gut twist. He sat up, searching for her in the darkness.

“Sansa... Sansa what’s the matter?” She was curled up, her knees tucked into her chest as her body shook intermittently. At the sound of his voice, she looked up tearfully.

“It’s nothing, Jaime, just go- go back to sleep,” she whimpered. Jaime threw the blanket off, walking over to her. If her date had done anything to her, he would find the little fucker and tear him in two.

“Jaime, please,” she begged, twisting away from him. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her. He could put his pain aside, for now, for her.

“San, what’s up? You can talk to me, you know that.”

Sansa bit back another sob and took a deep breath. “He stood me up.”

“Hey, Sansa, it’s his loss. I know it hurts but he’s the ass for ever standing you up,” he reassured. “You shouldn’t ever feel bad for that.” Jaime hugged her and began stroking her hair.

“No, Jaime, you don’t understand. I- It’s not about that...”

“Then tell me, San.” She had stopped shaking now and was pressing herself into his warm skin.

“I never wanted, fuck... I didn’t want him... I’m not upset about him...” Jaime was utterly confused - Sansa never swore and he had no clue whatsoever she was on about. What in seven hells was she crying about? Sansa was staring at him, searching for something but he remained just as clueless. “For pity’s sake, Jaime, you complete arse! I want you, I’ve always wanted you, only you...”

“Sansa,” he choked, “I...”

“Jaime you’re a complete and utter fool. I love you, you the man who picks me date outfits, and smiles so sweetly, and winds me up, and checks I’m safe, and makes me lemon cakes when I feel like shit.” Sansa laughed ruefully. “How could I possibly have anyone else?”

He felt like a moron, continuing to gape at her, but he was astonished.

“Say something,” she whispered. “Jaime?”

“Gods, I love you, San, I truly do,” he blurted out. “You have no idea.”

“Thank the Gods,” she murmured. “Otherwise, that would have been awkward.” They both chuckled for a moment, until the silence became too awkward and then Jaime did the only thing he could; he covered her mouth with his own. Jaime laid his hand on her lower back, pushing her towards him, though Sansa needed no encouragement as she pressed herself eagerly into the kiss. He was pleased to see her eyes were not longer damp with tears, and if her sighs were anything to go by, she was a great deal happier than she had been. “You’re awful at this feelings business, did anyone ever tell you that?”

Jaime smirked, sliding from her mouth to suck a mark against her pale neck, grinning when Sansa gasped and clenched her hand around his wrist. “I am awful at speaking about it, yes... but showing it? Considerably better.”

“I agree... wholeheartedly,” Sansa mumbled as he continued smothering her neck and collarbone with his mouth. His other hand found her jeans and worked to unzip them. Sansa wriggled out of them, peeling the crimson top off at the same time.

“You look fucking gorgeous in that top.”

“Ah,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “So that’s why you didn’t want me to wear it. You were jealous.”

Jaime huffed indignantly. “Maybe.”

Sansa held a look of complete satisfaction. Yanking his shirt off, she ran her hands down the hard muscle of his chest, kissing down the tanned skin. Jaime could see her chest heaving and her eyes were dark with arousal. While she paused to catch her breath, his hand found her panties and he began stroking her heated core.

“Jesus, Sansa, you’re so wet.”

Sansa moaned in response, covering his hand with her own to speed him up. Jaime peeled her panties off and began running his fingers through her slick folds. “Fuck...”

“Where did you get the notion that this was a conversion? Hurry up I want you to-“ Sansa cut herself off with a cry as he slid his middle finger inside her wet cunt, rubbing carefully until he felt her bucking into his hand. His thumb circled her nub and Jaime watched keenly as her eyes slid closed and she lost herself in his touch.

“You were saying?”

She mumbled something at him but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Jaime curled his finger, brushing her inner walls until she clenched around his fingers and her back arched as she came. Panting, Sansa gasped, trying to breathe normally. “Jaime, gods...”

Jaime removed his fingers from her cunt and undid his own jeans. “Are you safe? San, you on protection.” “You live with me, you should know,” she teased, regretful when he responded by brushing her stimulated cut with his fingers. “Yes, alright! I’m on protection!” “Are you quit ready now?”

“Shut up,” she glared.

Grinning, he shoved his jeans aside, but before he could reach for her, Sansa sunk herself down on his hard cock with a sweet little moan. His hands instinctively flew to her waist. Jaime let out a groan of pleasure and began to build up a rhythm with her, listening to her little cries to decide what she liked.

“Harder, Jaime, please,” she begged, bucking against him, the little vixen. Jaime was only too happy to oblige, thrusting into her harder and faster which only made his sweet girl louder. He could feel her fingers gripping his upper arms and her body tightening as she gasped. “Come for me, sweet girl,” he teased, reaching down to run her cunt again. “Come for me, Sansa.”

Sansa let out a loud moan, tensing as she peaked around him. Jaime met his own release moments later. He could still feel her walls fluttering around him as he spilled his seed inside her with a loud groan. Collapsing on top of her, spent, Sansa’s arms hugged his body. Her fingers ran through his long blond hair. “Jaime...”

He shifted next to her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Yes, San?”

“I love you.”

Jaime laughed and twisted over to kiss her again, relishing in this newfound bliss, until he realised he’d just fucked her on the floor of their flat. “Shit, Sansa, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough... we didn’t even talk about it...”

Jaime,” she shushed him, clasping his hand and drinking in the sight of his flushed face. “I wanted you to make love to me. I wanted you to do it here. I would have said otherwise. Now, please, shut up and kiss me again.”

Only too happy to oblige, he did as he was bid, running his mouth again over the heated skin of her neck and up to her mouth, taking more time to explore her mouth. “You’re dangerous, Sansa Stark. I couldn’t even look at you in those jeans or that top without wanting to rip them off you.”

“Dirty man,” she muttered. “My dirty man.”

“You make it sound so lecherous,” he said, aghast. Sansa laughed at him.

“Don’t push your luck. Now, I think you should take me to bed.” She had no argument from him.

 

 


End file.
